July 16, 2024 – Ann is in OurLitteCorner today

Hope and The Guest House

Sometimes it’s poets who help us get through dark times. And it’s poetry that can soothe the soul. And make us think. Maybe that’s why I’m so excited that we hear that Ada Limón, U.S. Poet Laureate and Glen Ellen native, just bought a house in our ‘hood and intends to move back here (at least part time) from Kentucky. Do you think I can get her to come to the next neighborhood party we throw? What a hopeful thought.

So I’m blogging today about poets and poetry. I had another blog all ready to go but decided yesterday that the subject matter wasn’t what I wanted.

In April of 1861 Confederate troops fired on Fort Sumter and Union forces surrendered, marking the beginning of the U.S. Civil War. And around that same time Emily Dickinson published her poem, “Hope Is the Thing with Feathers.”

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I’ve heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

Another poem that I’ve had marked as one I wanted to include in a blog is “The Guest House” by the 13th Century Persian poet, Rumi. What I’ve realized with a little research today is how little I knew about Rumi’s poetry and how he has often been presented incorrectly (hmmmm…things aren’t always as they seem?). You can read more here. For example, the poem I wanted to share is not really an accurate translation of what he wrote.

According to Wikipedia (can we believe that source?), “Coleman Barks (born April 23, 1937) is an American poet, and former literature faculty member at the University of Georgia.  Although he neither speaks nor reads Persian, he is a popular interpreter of Rumi, rewriting the poems based on other English translations.”

So this poem is really by Coleman Barks, not Rumi. Still, I like it.

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

Now that I’m done reflecting, I’m ready to start planning my next party. If Ada is coming, the food and ambiance has got to be good. Maybe for dessert the Best Strawberry Ice Cream ever? We’ll remind her how good the strawberries are in Sonoma county and how amazing homemade ice cream can be…kind of like her poetry.